Sepulchre wasn't sure when it'd come loose from his pack, he probably wouldn't have even heard it fall if they hadn't scaling a particularly steep incline. The sound of metal rolling downhill, clanging slightly as it fell, reached his ears and by the time he turned around.. it was too late. The hunk of metal teetered briefly on the edge, and the thought of persuing it voiced itself before growing silent once more as the piece of metal simply plomped into the lava. It was almost comical, how time seemed to slow while Sepulchre could do nothing but watch it disintigrate, literally melting to join the molten mess beneath their hooves. And then it was gone forever, and the heraldic was left with a strange sourness in his mouth.

"I hope that wasn't important." Crispin said, peering down from over the ledge at Sep's precarious footing. "Are you alright?"

"No," was the hollow reply that followed, and then. "Yes."

The white courser blinked, slowly, as if taking a deep breath without actually doing so. Was he asking for patience? Sep was, too. He understood that. Crispin finally asked, "What was it?"

Sepulchre angled his head, pale eyes still searching the lava with a flicker of dull interest. "Scrap metal."

"I see," Crispin looked like he didn't exactly know what to say, as Sepulchre didn't seem particularly distraught. "Shall we carry on?"

"Yes."